


stop the world 'cause i wanna (get off with you)

by lucasfletcher



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Smut, i wrote like proper smut!!, its kinda weird, michael keeps asking for dick pictures, my first malum!!, thats basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucasfletcher/pseuds/lucasfletcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To: Calum <br/>im feeling terrible cheer me up<br/>and by that i mean send me a dick pic</p>
<p>It’s definitely not weird Michael’s still texting his one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stop the world 'cause i wanna (get off with you)

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of a prompt I found on tumblr and I can't find the link anymore, so yeah
> 
> it turned out longer than I intended, but it's my first malum!!:)
> 
> title from arctic monkeys' song

Michael is ready to pull out all of his hair. (He loves it too much to do that, though, so maybe just like, his chest hair or something.) In other words, he’s stressed and his schedule is failing and, _wow,_ is it really half past two in the morning already? He was supposed to take a quick shower and then write the reports, but of course something _had to_ fuck up, because it’s him and nothing ever goes as planned.

He just likes schedules, okay? He likes following the things he planned out for the day. And now there’s an uneasy feeling settling into his stomach when he thinks about how he isn’t going get enough of sleep and his boss will probably eat him when he doesn’t turn in his work. (She’s pretty nice, actually. It’s just, he’s never forgotten to do his assignments a he’s worried, so. She probably won’t mind, at least he hopes.)

When he tried to turn on the shower, something went wrong with his faucet and he had to google how to repair it and then spent two hours fucking around with screwdrivers and other stuff he doesn’t even own, so he had to improvise and now it _isn’t working_ and he’s going to have to wash his hair in the freaking kitchen sink and, yeah. So it’s half past two and he’s standing in the middle of his room and doesn’t know what to do.

In the end he climbs into his bed and grabs for his phone.

 

_To: Calum_

_im feeling terrible cheer me up_

_and by that i mean send me a dick pic_

It’s definitely not weird he’s still texting his one night stand. Not like you can blame him, Calum was like, the best lay he’s had in months and not to talk about his body, because _damn_ that tanned, dark haired boy was something. Michael doesn’t even know how they exchanged numbers, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect his cock was, so he texted him. And he meant it as a joke at first, but Calum sent him a picture anyway and it stopped being funny after that. Not that he asks for nudes frequently, it’s just when it’s… an emergency. Like right now.

He receives the photo not long after that. Calum’s holding himself half-hard in his hand and you can see the muscles of his stomach and how his T-shirt is rolled up on his chest. He imagines Calum jerking off just for the sake of the photo and Michael. And _fuck_ if that doesn’t do things to him.

 

_To: Calum_

_ur cock is so pretty, have i ever told u that ?_

_From: Calum_

_once or twice_

 

He closes his eyes. Breathes out. Then he slowly inches his hand into his pants, the image of Calum burning in his brain. With a few experienced flicks of his wrist he comes, probably embarrassingly quickly to the memory of the other boy’s moans. Calum’s name dies on his lips.

 

_From: Calum_

_did u get off ??_

Michael sends him a photo of his own hand streaked with jizz.

 

…

 

Freak out, because his alarm’s already ringing. Check. Wash his hair in the sink, check. Almost shit his pants as he walks to the company’s building, check. He’s pretty good at this planning thing, it seems. Michael just hopes his boss won’t even mention that he had to email her the reports.

And he kind of likes his job, because, frankly, getting an opportunity to work for a huge insurance company at 21 is a pretty big deal. (His dad is definitely not a head of another department and definitely did not get Michael this job.) But he’s also quite good at it, usually. Sometimes it just can get exhausting.

The receptionist on their floor, Luke, smiles brightly at him as he checks in. “Good morning.”

Michael sighs in response. “Hi.”

“You alright, Michael?”

He pauses from where he’s signing in and furrows his brows. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

He rests his forehead against the cold surface of Luke’s desk for a moment and Luke pats his head consolingly. Since he’s closest to Michael’s age, the boys get quite along, taking their lunch breaks together and sometimes going out after work.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”

Michael heaves another sigh as he parts to the direction of his office. He sets his laptop case on the ground next to his desk and leans against it, his hipbones digging into the hardwood. He plays with the rolled up sleeves of his light blue shirt, his stomach churning from nervousness. (It also may be because he missed breakfast. His day is really shit.)

Mrs Hood is in her office, typing something into her computer, a mug of coffee set in front of her. That reminds him he hasn’t even had his daily dose of caffeine and his mouth waters.

“Michael, hi. Come in, I actually wanted to talk to you,” she smiles at him, and it’s warm, not the I-know-what-you-did-last-night kind of smile. He breathes a little bit easier, but there’s still anxiousness littering inside him.

“G-good morning,” he stammers out and takes a seat on the edge of the chair in front of her desk. He folds his hands in his lap and plays with his thumbs. _Don’t mention the reports, please don’t mention them._

“You know the annual Christmas party is going to be held in a few days, right?”

Michael blinks.

“Yeah?”

He actually doesn’t know. He actually just found out, because _shit,_ is it already December?

“And you know my son?”

He does. She talks about him at every given opportunity, since the time she found out he was very much into guys and _wow, my son is also very much into guys and he’d be perfect for you, Michael._ It’s so weird, his boss trying to set him up with her son, but like… he doesn’t want to offend her. He may be gay, but dating his boss’s son is kind of a turn off.

“Yeah?”  So eloquent.

“He’s going to be there and it would be a great opportunity for you two to actually meet in person. I’ve told him so much about you.” And she’s still smiling, more like grinning now, and he knows she’s just trying to be nice but blind dates doesn’t work out right for Michael and _also,_ what if her son has some kind of deformation (not like Michael is a judgemental person, but _what if_ ) and she’s only trying to set him up from pity. Also what.

“What did you, um, tell him?”

“Only about how hard working you are and also nice and friendly and that you still don’t have a boyfriend. You don’t, right?”

Michael shakes his head, still a bit baffled. He doesn’t know if being platonically in love with a stranger’s dick counts. He doesn’t tell her that.

“That’s great. He’s coming all the way from Canberra to spend the holidays with us I’m looking forward to it,” Mrs Hood’s smile is getting wider and Michael just.

He smiles back, forced and a bit shaky. He really doesn’t want to get on her bad side. She still hasn’t mentioned his work and there’s a weight lifting off of his chest, but also one setting down, kind of heavier.

“I’m looking forward to meeting him,” he lies through his teeth, slowly standing up. As he’s almost at the door, she calls to him.

“Also, Michael?”

He turns back, suffering from a mini heart attack.

“Wear something pretty,” she winks at him and. Oh god.

He has to take a breather for a few minutes, before he frantically starts working on the monthly reports. Also, he has to think about the Christmas presents. Also, he has to find out how to repair that fucking shower.

Fuck schedules, honestly.

 

…

 

And he swears it was only the 15th yesterday, but now it’s a day before his Christmas break and the party is tonight and he’s kind of freaking out. So, he does the only thing he can think of.

_To: Calum_

_there’s going to be a blind date and probably a lot of embarrassment tonight_

_i have a strong suspicion the guy’s a weirdo_

_help me_

_From: Calum_

_oh my god, it’s like you don’t have enough of my dic pics already_

_To: Calum_

_hey, you can’t blame me_

_its such a pretty one_

_thanks for making my days better, calum’s cock_

_From: Calum_

_ur_ _an idiot_

_are u gonna jerk off ?_

_To: Calum_

_its impossible not to touch my penis after i’ve seen yours_

And _fuck,_ is that a suit Calum’s wearing? His trousers are unbuttoned and the white shirt is hanging over his tattooed hand from where he’s gripping at his cock and Michael is so, utterly fucked. He ruins his own pants and has to change into those tight and scratchy ones, but he looks kind of good in them, so he doesn’t mind that much.

 

_From: Calum_

_good luck tonight ;)_

_Fuck,_ Michael thinks, _a winky face?_

…

 

The party looks actually pretty impressive. There are dimmed orange lights and the classic green-red decorations, but it doesn’t look cheap and also the wine is excellent. He says so to Luke, somewhere between his third or fourth glass. He doesn’t count. He wants to be at least tipsy when he meets _the_ guy.

He talked to his dad for a while, then there were some speeches during which he chose to get another drink and now he’s not hiding. Standing off in a corner hoping no one will notice him doesn’t count as hiding, right?

He briefly scans the room, stopping at a lean figure standing just a few meters away. Well, what’s really stopped him was the guy’s excellent behind, accentuated by the black slacks he’s wearing.

“Luke, Luke,” he slaps at his arm, “who’s that?” He points in the brief direction of the guy and Luke shrugs.

“No idea. Probably someone’s boyfriend or something.”

“Yeah, great. Why can’t Hood’s son look like that? Look at his _ass._ ”

“You don’t even know how Hood’s son looks like, yet, since you’re here sulking in the corner.”

That’s about the time the guy turns to the side and Michael catches a glimpse of his profile and, oh no.

“Fuck me.”

“That’s a bit forward, don’t you think?” Luke chuckles, probably thinking he’s funny. Then: “I’d fuck him, though.”

Which. “No.”

As if Calum can sense they’re talking about him, he turns around and catches Michael’s gaze, raising one eyebrow. Michael chokes on his wine.

“Fuck. Fuck. _Shit._ ”

Michael turns to face the wall and steps in front of Luke, even though the blond boy is still taller than him. “Don’t look at him.”

“Um, Michael? Why is he coming here? And Hood’s with him,” Luke tries to peek over Michael and he punches at the general direction of his chest.

“Don’t, Luke. We’re not even here.”

“I’m gonna go now.”

“No, stay, no no no no,” Michael tries to stop him, but he slides out of his reach and then he hears an excited voice behind him.

“Michael!”

He spins around, trying to be as smooth as ever and probably failing. “Heey, Mrs Hood,” he says weakly.

“I see you’re enjoying the party,” she eyes the wine glass in his hand and his not-so-happy fake smile.

“Yeah, it’s really great, I like the… lighting,” he blurts out. _Wow. Michael Clifford, you are an A class idiot. The lighting?_

“I’m glad. Anyway, I wanted to introduce you. This is my son, Calum. Calum, meet Michael Clifford, the one I told you about.” Yeah, no need to introduce. He has his dick pics saved in his phone.

Calum outstretches his hand and Michael grips it weakly. “Nice to… meet you,” he breathes out.

“Nice to meet you too, Michael.” Calum’s eyes sparkle and Michael can see how he’s trying not to grin, when he holds his gaze and Michael is really fucked.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” Mrs Hood, _Calum’s freaking mother,_ says as she glances between the two of them.

Michael realizes he’s still holding Calum’s hand, so he quickly lets go and takes a step back. Then takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck me,” he whines, second time that day.

“Already did that.”

Michael can hear Calum’s chuckling, so he squeezes his eyes tighter, feeling the blush creeping up onto his cheeks.

“How’s the blind date going?” Calum asks then, still a hint of laughter in his voice. Michael opens one eye to look at him.

“Y’know, I was right about the embarrassment. Also, the guy’s a weirdo.”

And that sets them off, they’re laughing so hard Michael has to put his glass down on the nearest surface, afraid he’s going to spill it on himself, or more likely, on Calum.

“This is ridiculous, oh my god,” he breathes out then, and when did they get so close? The tips of Calum’s shoes are touching Michael’s and they’re almost the same height, which is perfect, because Calum’s face is also very close and he can see the warm brown of his eyes shine, even in the bad lighting.

“So you work for my mother? Does she know you jerk off to strangers’ pictures?”

“Does your mother know you’re such a dirty little slut, sending strangers your nudes?” Michael puts his hand on Calum’s forearm and tells himself it’s only for balance, because yeah, he’s definitely feeling tipsy right now. Calum curls his hand around Michael’s hip.

“Yeah, I probably deserved that.”

“You really did.”

And then they’re just smiling at each other, probably looking a bit dumb. The voice from the speakers is crooning about Christmas love and Michael can’t stop taking all of Calum in, the cut of his smooth jaw and styled hair and his lips, _god_ his plump lips stretching over his teeth, as he smiles at Michael. And the crinkles by his eyes Michael wants to run his fingers over and kiss the smile from his face.

“Do you wanna, maybe, get out of here?”

“Wow, Michael Clifford, are you inviting a stranger to your bed? Where are your manners?” Calum playfully moves his eyebrows and his smile widens even more.

“I am no gentleman. Is it working?”

Instead of answering, Calum grabs his elbow and they unhurriedly make their way out of the room. He doesn’t bother to say goodbye to Luke or even glance back. Calum intertwines their fingers, just as they’re exiting the building. A thrill runs through Michael’s body. Calum’s hand is warm and it fits just _so_ and Michael is really glad he met the Hood’s weirdo.

“Mum would be so pleased,” muses Calum as they’re waiting for their taxi, again too absorbed in each other’s features. Michael watches his lips form the words.

“Can we, like, not talk about your mother right now?”

Calum chuckles and moves closer, threading his hand into Michael’s hair. He tilts Michael’s head just as he wants it and when he leans closer, Michael’s breath hitches in his throat. He glances from Calum’s lips to his eyes and then back again. Watches how he wets them with his tongue. Breathes in.

The first touch of their lips is tentative, they’re still getting familiar with each other and Michael just brings Calum closer with a hand on the small of his back and puts the other one on his neck so that his thumb presses into Calum’s pulse point, feeling the uneven rhythm of his heart.

It seems like their cab gets there too quickly, just as Michael’s opening his lips and before their tongues can touch, Calum pulls back. Maybe it’s not a cab. Maybe it’s just Calum’s car.

The ride is quiet, Calum stretches his thighs over Michael’s lap and he absent-mindedly rubs circles into the fabric of Calum’s pants. The dark haired boy rakes his nails down the back of Michael’s neck, leaving goose bumps in his wake. They kiss. Little pecks on the lips, jaw, temples.

And it’s so tranquil, not rushed, like they have all the time in the world. Yeah, Michael thinks, they really have. It’s different than before, somehow. Like something’s changed, the alcohol clouds Michael’s mind, but he’s drunk off of Calum. The boy has something in him that makes him pull Michael in. (And it’s not just his dick. Well, maybe a little). The point is,  Michael is intoxicated. And he likes what Calum does to him.

The car pulls to the side again too quickly. They stumble out, and Calum intertwines their fingers again, calling a quick goodbye to the driver. His car, then.

“This is not my apartment,” frowns Michael, because last time they were there and he doesn’t expect Calum to, like, know where he lives, but he’s just confused.

“That’s because it’s mine.” Calum opens the front door and they climb the first flight of stairs, not even waiting for the lift. And Michael expects it to be awkward, because this is different.

“I thought you were living in Canberra?”

“That was just for work.”

The door shuts behind them and Calum turns on the light, taking off his shoes. Michael does the same and then he follows him to the kitchen, where he stands kind of awkwardly, playing with his hands. And he wants this, wants _Calum_ , but also doesn’t want to pressure him and …

“You want something to drink?”

“Show me the bedroom,” he blurts out and, yeah, so much for the not pressuring.

“You feeling this?

Michael blinks.

Then: “Are you quoting Blink?”

Instead of waiting for answer, Michael surges forward and their noses bump and there’s teeth clashing and it’s really not great, but also feels _so_ good. They messily stumble through the rest of the dark apartment, trying to shed as many clothes as they can in the process. Michael stubs his toe on the corner of the bed and Calum’s laughing at him and pulling him down on top of him and the adrenaline pumps in Michael’s blood.

Michael slows down, then. He wants it to last. So he rests his forearms next to Calum’s head and pauses a few centimeters from his wet lips, breathes in his air. Calum’s body feels so amazingly warm under him from where their skin is touching, but they still have their half-buttoned shirts on. He feels it getting too hot then, almost burning, as he stares into the brown of Calum’s eyes.

“You feeling _this_?” he whispers against Calum’s lips before kissing him, prying them open and letting their slick tongues tease each other. Calum grips at his ass, rutting up, the thin material of their boxers the only obstacle between them. He flips them over, so he’s straddling Michael’s waist and looks down on him.

The only source of light is the moon burning blue in the sky and Calum’s eyelashes leave in the weak light shadows against the cut of his cheekbones, his white shirt hanging from one of his shoulders.

Michael unbuttons the rest of Calum’s shirt and then runs his hands up his sides, feeling the muscles and smooth skin under his palms. Calum leans down and drags Michael’s bottom lip down with his thumb, still gazing into his eyes as if he couldn’t possibly turn away.

Then he forcefully ruts down against Michael, who closes his eyes, a moan ripping from his throat. He feels hot all over, feels Calum _everywhere._

Calum reaches into his nightstand drawer and lays the bottle of lube and condoms on the pillow next to Michael’s head.

“Lift your hips up for me, babe,” Calum whispers and it’s seems _so_ loud in the quiet space, only other sounds their erratic breathing and the blood rushing in Michael’s ears. In the process of dragging Michael’s boxers down his thighs he puts a pillow under his back and then Michael feels… nothing.

He opens one eye to find Calum just looking at him, the bottle of lube in his hand.

“C’mon… please,” he whimpers and squirms to get more comfortable, because he _needs_ something. His cock is lying half-hard against his stomach, neglected.

He feels Calum pressing soft kisses to the inside of his thighs and then he moves higher, sucks a bruise into his hips, while digging his nails into one of his thighs. When Calum presses one cold finger to the rim of his hole, Michaels shudders.

“Please,” he whines again, his heart setting into an uneasy rhythm and then Calum pushes in and it’s even worse, because he still needs more. Calum puts one hand on his stomach to keep him from moving down on his fingers.

“Slowly, baby,” he mumbles against Michael’s skin and starts sucking another bruise and _fuck._ When he adds another finger, Michael’s full out moaning, trying to get even more. Calum slowly pumps and curls his fingers, deeper and deeper, until he reaches _that_ one spot and Michael is left gasping for breath. He grabs at the sheets, gripping them in his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” Michael almost growls and Calum presses his laugh into Michael’s stomach. He kisses his way up flicking his nipple with his tongue in the process and then sucks another bruise right under Michael’s Adam’s apple.

“Patience,” he whispers. His lips are still wet when he pecks Michael’s lips and after he pulls back to put on the condom, he leaves a spit line connecting their mouths.

He lies back on top of him, and pushes the sweaty hair off of Michael’s forehead. “You ready?”

“Been ready two days ago.”

Calum laughs and Michael can’t get enough of the sound; though his laugh quickly turns into a soft moan, when Michael licks a hot stripe up his neck. Calum pushes the tip of his lube-slicked cock to Michael’s hole and it just.

As Calum inches inside, Michael wants to scream. It hurts, but he still wants more and Calum’s going just _too fucking slowly._

“If you don’t fuck me properly right now, I’m never fucking you again,” Michael threatens and then kind of freezes, because no one said anything about next time, but it makes Calum to move and whatever.

Michael comes almost embarrassingly quickly after that. It’s just, Calum’s moans are so pretty and so is his dick and Calum, Calum _everything._

The heat is still burning in his lower stomach, as he grips at Calum’s back, urging him to move, to reach his own high. He feels his muscles rippling under his hands and he sucks and bites and prods at the other boy’s collarbones, until he feels him losing control of his movements, filling up inside of him.

Michael wipes his stomach into Calum’s covers and then they move to the other side of the bed. They fall asleep tangled up in each other, Calum’s hand stroking his hair.

(One morning, when they’re still bad breathed, but perfectly fucked out nonetheless, he watches Calum disappear behind the bathroom door.

“Hey, Cal,” he calls after him, “send me a dick pic.”

His phone beeps with his own picture not long after. Michael doesn’t stop pouting, until Calum drags his boxers down his hips and lets them pool around his ankles.

Anyway, who needs to fix a shower, when there’s one perfectly working in Calum’s flat.)

**Author's Note:**

> (all of the mistakes are mine, you know the drill)
> 
> let me know what you think <3
> 
> tumblr: ashtnwins


End file.
